


Jungle Planet: Path to Burkaqua: Near Dario's

by moody_trans_detective



Series: Rogueass Galaxy [13]
Category: Rogue Galaxy
Genre: Other, insects?, insex?, monsters fucking monsters, you got off to what as a kid?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27576884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moody_trans_detective/pseuds/moody_trans_detective
Summary: When Jaster and Kisala stop to catch insectors, Zegram remembers his old obsession.
Series: Rogueass Galaxy [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956043
Kudos: 1





	Jungle Planet: Path to Burkaqua: Near Dario's

Just great, now the kid had a bomb. Zegram was beginning to question his life choices. The high from the dream mushroom and mutch excretions was wearing off, and he hadn’t had enough alcohol to be completely affected by it, which left him sober and pissed. He was stuck in the Juraikan jungle with a pirate’s spoiled daughter and a whore with a bomb.

“Look, kid, I appreciate explosives as much as the next man, but don’t forget we’re here for booster oil.”

“I just know this will come in handy,” said Jaster, unperturbed by Zegram’s tone, which only made Zegram more annoyed. The little shit was too positive, like he actually believed whatever situation he found himself in he could get out of, if he just tried hard enough.

There was nothing that turned Zegram nauseous like optimism. He had a drink from his smaller flask, casually, then flipped the hair out of his eyepatch.

“Eh, whatever you say. Just don’t go blowing us up with it.”

“He isn’t going to blow us up,” said Kisala.

Zegram grunted. He wasn’t in the mood any more to spar with her. He took his continued annoyance at the mutch out on the next series of beasts they found in their path, dispatching them more quickly and brutally than before. He was tired and frustrated and wanted to get back to the ship and drink. They were no closer to getting the booster oil and he had betrayal shit still on his to-do list. So when they came across a huge boulder, he hung back far along the path while the kid used the bomb. Zegram didn’t need any more shit to deal with.

Then they ran into a different kid who thought he knew shit about insectors. Zegram gritted his teeth, had a drink from his big flask, then his little flask, as the little shit explained to uninformed Jaster just what insectors were. Zegram had thought he’d put it behind him, but the stress he was under, the frustration of being the only one here who really knew a damned thing, brought the old obsession back.

Insectors. They’d been his entire childhood. Someone had gifted Zegram _Dr. Poccacio’s Complete and Explicit Ultimate Field Guide to Insectors_ —the second edition in which the esteemed entomologist had added information on Alistian insectors not included in the original—when he was seven, and things had gotten out of control from there. This was the current Dr. Poccacio’s late father, a brilliant and skilled man, not like the perverted electronics tinkerer from Zerard who sometimes made the news.

Zegram had read that little guidebook front to back and back to front again, over and over. It was so beat up and earmarked now he had to store it in a bag to keep the pages from escaping. He’d grown up catching and cultivating the tiny beasts, raising them, and, most importantly, enticing them to fuck. He’d managed to give it up years ago, and now here it was, staring him in the face.

He watched as Jaster set the trap, poorly, and Kisala suggested baiting it with some sanchez fruit they had that was too ripe to eat. Not the best choice, but Zegram expected no less from them. He used to be so good at this shit he could locate and catch insectors with no trap at all. But his patience waned as the time they spent in the jungle kept ticking by.

“Nothing again,” said Jaster after checking the trap for the third time. “Something ate the fruit, but I guess it got out.”

“Nothing but smart bugs,” said Kisala. “I still have more sanchez fruit.”

“I got a suggestion,” said Zegram. It was let him handle it, but he doubted they’d go for it.

“We’ll keep moving when we run out of fruit,” said Jaster.

“We’re not giving up just because you’re bored,” said Kisala.

“Okay then.” Zegram flicked the hair out of his eyepatch, annoyed, but he figured he could handle the situation even if they didn’t want him to. After all, he’d memorized every paragraph, each description, all tidbits of info in that insector guidebook, and he knew exactly what creeped and crawled on this planet. “Let’s just waste the day, shall we?”

“I hope it’s not a waste.” Jaster set the trap and led them off to more beast encounters.

Zegram knew he had to do something. Luckily, he recalled the specific habitats of a variety of insectors on Juraika, and he sneaked off again, this time to catch a few on his own. He nabbed a dung roller from under a decaying stump and slipped it into the trap when neither Jaster nor Kisala were looking.

“We got one,” said Jaster when he next checked.

“It’s not that pretty, is it?”

“It’s a fine insector,” said Zegram, personally offended Kisala could hate the little beast. “It’s got charm.”

“Nothing says charm like rolling dung,” said Kisala. “Of course you’d like it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s see if we can catch anything else,” said Jaster. “Have any more fruit?”

This time Zegram was more careful with the insector he selected. The jungle was swarming with cutterpillars, creatures that would cut up leaves in fascinating patterns known only to themselves. If you caught one and didn’t know which variety you had, examining the pattern left behind on a leaf after a meal could help you ID the beast. Zegram knew all the leaf-patterns. His first insectors had been of the cutterpillar family. They were common as hell, sturdy, and mesmerizing. They’d gotten him hooked.

He tracked down and caught, bare-handed, a plump specimen with bands of blue circling its body. Probably a Rhyzas looper—they’d be overrunning the jungle in this area of the planet—but he’d be able to confirm after the creature had fed on a few leaves. Not that he could share the information with the kid and let on he was one of _those_ types of people who knew shit about insectors, but it’d be interesting anyway. He’d never owned a Rhyzas looper.

The cutterpillars he had owned…He’d taken them to local Insectron battle meetups, watched them fight. They rammed their opponents mercilessly. Zegram had been drawn to the sheer brutality from such a lanky looking creature. And then, for his fourteenth birthday, he’d gotten his hands on a drillerpillar. He hadn’t known it was ready to mate.

Zegram remembered sticking it in the cage with the slitherpede and cold cuts he had. Those two had been able to share space without a problem, but the addition of the drillerpillar changed the entire atmosphere. Zegram had awoken one morning to the drillarpillar wrapped around the slitherpede, ramming itself against the beast again and again. It looked like none of the fighting moves Zegram had seen at the Insectron board. And it had given him this illicit tingling feeling.

He'd watched intently as the drillerpillar kept up its battering for five minutes or so, then uncurled from the slitherpede and inched its way to the cold cuts. The second time, Zegram had figured out it was mounting as it wrapped its long body around the other cutterpillar. What he’d thought was a protrusion of the drillerpillar’s body he realized was in actuality a phallus of impressive size. He’d spent half the day watching the insectors fuck, unsure why he was so fascinated, learning how to get himself off even better.

He knew he shouldn’t get back into this shitass hobby. He blamed it for a lot of why he was screwed up now. He deposited the cutterpillar in the trap and waited for the kid to notice it.

“This one’s interesting,” said Jaster as he pulled it out.

“He’s cute,” said Kisala. Figured she’d like the beast that was basically a battering ram with a dick.

“Great, we all like it. Can we get a move on now?” asked Zegram. He didn’t want to stick around long enough to find the insector a mate. He was almost lucky at this point the mutch had drained him so thoroughly—he didn’t have to worry as much about urges. Even if he was turned on thinking about insectors fucking.

“Can we try for one more? I have a little sanchez fruit left. Please?’

“All right,” said Jaster.

Zegram wanted to smack the kid. If he was trying to get into her pants, it wasn’t going to work. Kisala was the pickiest woman he’d ever seen. This was just a waste of time.

He went looking for something, anything, that wasn’t a cutterpillar, and came across a hopper. These creatures needed a lot of space when kept caged. They were energetic as hell and fucked like it, too—when Zegram first got them, he’d been fascinated how they’d all end up humping each other for thirty seconds at a time and then find a new partner. They weren’t as hung as some other insectors, but they made up for it by sheer excitement. They never seemed to tire, never seemed to wear out. When one of them was ready to mate, the others soon followed, and they’d have a hopper orgy for about a week before settling down again. Zegram remembered tiring his dick out trying to keep up as a horny teen, being so jealous of their endurance.

The specimen he found here in the jungle was probably a big hoppa, although it was hard to tell without it singing. Hoppers made a kind of musical tone with their back legs and wings, each variety with a different song. Zegram had fallen asleep to their calls many a night as a loner teen.

“It’s so lively,” said Kisala when Jaster pulled it from the trap and stuck it in the cage. “We should name it.”

“Sounds like a thing to do while we’re walking,” said Zegram. “To Burkaqua Village. For booster oil. The whole reason we’re here, if you’ve forgotten.”

“No, I haven’t forgotten. But you have to appreciate the little things in life, too.”

“Believe me, I can appreciate these little things,” said Zegram. “I can appreciate them in ways that would surprise you.”

“Uh, maybe we should keep going,” said Jaster. The look he gave Zegram made him think the kid maybe knew what he meant. Damn. He’d thought Jaster wasn’t that bright. Maybe he had a good sense for sexually charged things, being a little slut. Zegram would have to be more careful in the future.

“What I’ve been saying this entire time. C’mon, sweet cheeks, you’re outnumbered.”

Kisala narrowed her eyes at him. Zegram thought he’d pushed her too far for a moment, but then she turned her back on him.

“I’m sure it’s not far away anyway. Let’s go, Jaster.”

Jaster seemed relieved they weren’t arguing. He wasn’t going to be able to be optimistic forever, and Zegram was going to enjoy the moment the kid figured out everything wasn’t cute cutterpillars and sanchez fruit. That time was coming. Zegram would be there.

“Burkaqua Village,” said Jaster, almost thoughtfully, as he led the way.

Zegram was liking this betrayal thing more and more.


End file.
